Sir Anthony and the Bouncy Castle
by Milliecake
Summary: Tony once again dabbles in the business of wish making...with the usual, disastrous results


Title: Sir Anthony and the Bouncy Castle

Author: Milliecake

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing and by the time you've read this, I'll have given them back.

Summary: Tony once again dabbles in the business of wish-making…with the usual disastrous result.

*****

A perfectly blue sky was gradually sweeping away the last of the morning clouds, promising an unspoilt afternoon for the gentlemen and ladies of the Tenth Kingdom. With the air of pretentious swans, they glided across the manicured lawns of Snow White's Castle, as preening and vain as the peacocks that graced the King's gardens.

Tony Lewis, onetime caretaker and odd-job man, now Fourth Kingdom superhero, rested his fist on his chin and unhappily watched them buzz about, poking around the stalls and carts that lined the grounds.

"Another beer," he mumbled to the stallholder, who handed him his fourth foamy tankard to nurse over the impromptu bar.

A trio of young, ribboned women skipped passed, chattering in high, excited voices, and Tony grimaced. Why was everyone going stir crazy over some fair? Oh right, because they'd never heard of the Superbowl.

"Ah, there you are Anthony."

Tony's head jerked up and he forced a limp smile as King Wendell strolled over, a voluptuous beauty draped shamelessly over one arm, a glass of wine held in the other hand.

"Your Majesty," Tony said, feeling awkward and clumsy in their presence as he climbed off the stool. Of course, the three beers he had just downed might have had something to do with that.

"So, what do you think?" Wendell asked, brightly, running an eye over the throngs of aristocrats that graced his grounds.

"Uh, yes, great…uh party, Your Majesty," Tony said, mustering what could charitably be called enthusiasm for the proceedings.

"But there's one thing missing," Wendell continued, thoughtfully.

"There is?" Tony asked, bemused. Images of semi-clad women wrestling in a tank of Jell-O for the entertainment of the crowd unexpectedly popped into his head. "Yeah, I guess there is," he agreed, dreamily.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I doubt it," Tony mumbled back, his mind still hooked on the girls in the Jell-O tank.

"Bouncy castles," Wendell said.

Abruptly, the Jell-O tank was replaced by a towering bouncy castle, with numerous Baywatch babes jumping up and down…up and down…

"Oh, of course, absolutely," Tony agreed, hypnotised by the jiggling. "Bouncy castles…of course…"

His words trailed off, right along with the buzz of alcohol that had settled comfortably in his brain. "Uh, b-bouncy castles?" he stuttered, straightening, the lurid images winking out of existence in a snap. "But surely you weren't serious…"

Wendell was smiling encouragingly and suddenly, Tony caught on. He laughed and clapped Wendell on the back, making the younger man stagger and spill his drink, the beauty giving him a dirty look.

"Bouncy castles," he repeated, with a snort. "Good one, your Royalness. I gotta admit, you had me going there for a minute."

His laughter slowly faded into an uncomfortable silence. Wendell was eyeing him as if he had gone insane, and the beauty had discretely moved away now, having decided to place life and limb ahead of position and power.

"Anthony, I'm completely serious," Wendell said, straightening his dress-uniform with a sharp jerk. "You did promise me bouncy castles if you recall."

"But your Majesty," Tony protested, "I told you…" Through the drunken fog, he flailed for the correct excuse, "Um…industrial revolution…plastic…um…"

"Look at these people, Anthony," Wendell cut off his diatribe arbitrarily. "They need bouncy castles. _I _need bouncy castles."

"Yes, but…"

"No buts, Anthony," Wendell said. "I'm counting on you. Don't disappoint me."

"I won't, but…"

"Good. So it's settled. I'll expect a report on how soon you can deliver."

The King was suddenly swallowed by a gaggle of older ladies, all chattering and waving their fans.

"But…uh, Your Majesty?" Tony called, trying to push his way through, snorting on feathers and choking on the reek of lavender. 

Why did all old ladies smell like that? Did they have a patent on it? Shares in the lavender industry? Sharp, bony elbows dug into his ribs and he was swatted with a closed fan. They might be little, but these women sure knew how to fight dirty. Realising he was both outclassed and out manoeuvred, Tony backed off.

"Your Majesty?" he tried again, plaintively, but either Wendell didn't hear him or just didn't want to.

With a sigh, Tony reclaimed his stool and his untouched beer, and allowed his head to thump onto the wooden bar top.

"Bad day, Sir?" the barman asked, sympathetically.

Tony nodded miserably, not raising his head to slur, "Just keep 'em coming and I'll be fine."

*****

King Wendell's castle was swimming lazily as Tony stumbled through the stalls, burping inelegantly every now and then to cause a flutter of pretty butterflies to step back. Not butterflies, he told himself, happily. _Elves. _He tried to smile at them, but succeeded in a frightening leer that sent them scurrying in bustle of wings and fairy lace.

"Who does he think he is, anyway?" Tony muttered, to himself. "I mean, who the heck needs bouncy castles?"

He caught the arm of a passing Elf, who gazed desperately about for some way to rid himself of the drunken creature that had latched onto him.

"You know what he needs?" Tony demanded, poking the unfortunate Elf in the chest. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone and whispered, "Therapy."

"Of course," the Elf replied, nervously, attempting to untangle the arm Tony draped around his thin shoulder.

"And beer!" Tony continued, loudly. He grinned like an idiot at the people who had stopped to stare. "Lot's of beer!"

The Elf managed to free himself and hurried away, but Tony didn't seem to mind. He staggered away from the gawkers and their bright festivities, and came to a small clearing amongst the trees. Suddenly, the world seemed to spin alarmingly and he put out a hand to the trunk of a tree to steady himself.

"Whoa," he muttered, when the even the tree began to tilt.

"Ah, a customer," a sly voice announced.

Tony blinked and as he peered around the tree, he happened upon a small, hunched peddler, sitting on an upturned bucket, a donkey and cart at his back.

The peddler beckoned Tony forward, a cunning smile curving his lips. "I have many delights," the peddler said, waving an arm over the rickety, covered cart. "But only for those with discerning tastes." He cracked a grin devoid of a single, unstained, unbroken tooth.

"…dis…disce…" Tony hiccuped. "Well, thas me."

"As I can see," the peddler said, after a beat. He hopped nimbly to his feet and drew the blanket from the cart, revealing an assortment of odd items. "This," he said, reverently lifting a shard of grubby mirror, "comes from one of the great prophetic mirrors, made by the dwarves of Dragon Mountain themselves!" He covertly wiped an even dirtier sleeve across the shard.

Tony frowned. He didn't like mirrors. They were always getting lost. Or smashed.

"Or this," the peddler continued, pulling out a rusty piece of wire. "It is said to have come from the harp that Jack stole from the Giant. It still plays as beautifully now as it did then." He plucked one dirty finger across it and it gave a half-hearted twang. "Ah, lovely," the peddler breathed with a hopeful, winning smile.

Tony wiped a hand across his nose and the peddler replaced the string.

"I can you're not a man to be fooled so easily," the peddler complimented him. "There's only one item left in my little cart that might interest a gentlemen such as yourself." He reached in and came out with cupped hands.

Curious, Tony strained to see what was inside. Slowly, tantalisingly, the peddler revealed a golden, jumping bean.

"What is it?" Tony breathed, making the peddler's nose wrinkle at the stench.

"A dragon-dung bean," the peddler whispered back, in awe.

"What?!" Tony straightened as if jabbed. Suddenly, the drink wasn't sitting too easily on his stomach.

"Six wishes," the peddler was saying. "Six perfect, anything-you-want-wishes. Just think what you could have, Sir."

"I think I'd like to throw up…"

The peddler blinked in surprise. "Whatever tickles your fancy, Sir." These rich folk were certainly strange. "And it's all yours for five gold wendells."

He hungrily eyed the money pouch hanging at Tony's waist.

"No…no way…" Tony said, backing up. "I've tried one of those…things before."

"Really?"

"None of it worked. I had beer. Then I had too much beer. And Murray kept trying to kiss my butt. And the vacuum ate my curtains. Then I got arrested…"

The peddler raised his eyebrows and whistled silently to himself. He'd never heard of anyone who'd had it so bad with a dung bean.

He gave Tony a confused frown, then appeared suddenly enlightened. "Oh, you're talking about the old dragon dung-bean. Those things were sodding unreliable, if you ask me. Five out of six wishes would backfire. The complaints we had." He whistled and raised his eyes as if remembering. "But would the higher ups listen?" He tapped the side of his nose. "They wanted us to get rid of the old stock before bringing in the new. You now how it is."

And Tony did. All to often it had been a case of blame the little guy while the job-worthies got rich on other people's misery. "Those money-grabbing, no-good swindlers," he slurred, angrily.

The peddler shrugged, holding the golden bean between a grubby thumb and forefinger. "But these babies, these are the genuine, pea-princess article. Six out of six working wishes. And none of that sick feeling before it begins to work either."

"Six out of six…?" Tony weaved unsteadily, causing the peddler to grab his arm.

"That's right, sir," the peddler said. "All for just four gold pieces."

"Why don't you…?"

"Try it myself?" the peddler finished. "You wouldn't believe how many times I've heard that one, Sir. 'Why don't you take the dung-bean and wish for a mountain of gold?' they ask me." He wiped at his nose. "Can't, sir. It's policy, you see. No using the merchandise for personal gain." He shrugged. "It's in my contract."

Tony frowned and blinked as the peddler seemed to sway alarmingly to the left.

Grabbing his would-be customer again, the peddler jerked Tony upright and waved the bean under his nose. "Six all-good wishes for just…three gold pieces."

"I don't know…" Tony began. He was certain, if he could just think straight for a moment, that there was a good reason not to try a dung-bean.

"Alright…two pieces, and that's my final offer."

"But Virginia wouldn't like it." Tony was certain about that.

"You drive a hard bargain, I'll give you that, sir. One gold piece for six golden wishes. And not a penny less. Done!"

He stuck out a hand and placed Tony's in it, vigorously pumping it.

One gold piece, Tony thought, fumbling for his pouch. The peddler's nimble fingers caught it for him and withdrew a shiny gold wendell.

The peddler lifted the dung-bean so Tony could see, then popped it into Tony's mouth. Tony swallowed with a grimace, and rubbed at his stomach.

"Pleasure doing business with you, sir," the peddler called, over one shoulder, as he re-covered his cart. Hopping nimbly into the seat, he cracked the reins and the despondent donkey set off at a snail pace. "Oh, just one more thing, Sir:

If your wishes don't run true

Save the last one to undo."

Standing in the middle of the swaying clearing, Tony nodded. Then he blanched. Then he ran for the closest tree.

As the peddler left the clearing, the distinct sound of unhappy retching could be heard. "One born every minute," the peddler said, and began to laugh.

*****

Cradling his head in his hands, Tony sat slumped on a fallen log, wishing the hangover that was threatening to split his brain apart would just get it over and done with. The last few hours were a blur, the Autumn Fair, talking to Wendell, talking to some peddler about wishes.

"Yeah, right." Tony snorted softly, then wished he hadn't when his stomach lurched in protest. "Like he wasn't feeding me a line with that dragon-dung bean crap."

But his conversation with Wendell continued to niggle him. How in the hell was he supposed to get the King his bouncy castles? It would take years! Months alone to find the right compound to make the plastics and then more time building a processing plant to spec.

Things just didn't work like that in the Fourth Kingdom. Everything here relied on fairy tales and riddles and mirrors…and magic.

Raising his head, the wheels in his aching brain churning, Tony put a thoughtful hand on his chin. Magic might be the way to go about it and since the bean had remained lodged somewhere in his gut when he'd thrown up, he still had six wishes.

Standing, he began to pace excitedly. "I mean, what could happen?" Tony asked himself. "I make one wish for Wendell to get his bouncy castle and get off my back. Then I'll quit. No more wishing. Ever."

Through the beer induced fog that continued to addle his mind, it seemed like a splendid idea and Tony prematurely congratulated himself on a job well done.

"Ok," he said, readying himself for the wish that would make him a hero all over again in the eyes of the Kingdom's people. He raised his hands and announced loudly to the air, "I wish for Wendell to have his bouncy castle." Then quickly added, "Free delivery, no strings attached. You hear me, wish people?"

There was no reply, but neither did anything bad happen, like the cops showing up, or people trying to worship him. Ok, maybe that last one hadn't been so bad…

Excited cries were coming from the direction of the fair now and Tony grinned hugely. He had done it! Wendell had his bouncy castle, the people were having fun already. Virginia would be so proud of him.

Suddenly, the shouts and screams didn't sound exactly happy, at least not the playful, bouncy kind of happy he used to hear from the kids and Tony felt his grin fade. Creeping to the edge of the clearing, he peered through the trees to the stalls and the panicked, scattering people beyond. What the hell was going on?

Then he saw it. A sight so terrible he let out a squeak of terror before covering his mouth. Wendell's castle, the beautifully crafted, fairy tale chateau, was tilting.

No, not tilting. _Wobbling._ Back and forth, like some gigantic, out of control jelly. The sweeping spires that had spouted so sharply to the heavens, were lurching left and right, while a thin stream of people fled out of the distorting front gate.

Tony retreated back to the clearing, panting heavily in panic. "This cannot be happening," he told himself. "Not again!"

A second peek at the teetering trifle Snow White's castle had become confirmed he wasn't hallucinating. He, Tony the Valiant, had defaced one of the most valuable, most historical houses in the Nine Kingdoms! They were going to lynch him.

"Ok, think, think dammit," Tony said, clutching his head, _wishing _he could squeeze some answer out. He froze in stark terror at that thought, but nothing happened, no squishing his brain like an overripe orange in a juicer, and he slumped in relief. Obviously he had to say his wishes out loud for them to work or there was no telling what horrors his subconscious might conjure up.

An idea struck him then and he began to grin somewhat insanely, rubbing his hands gleefully together. "Ok, wish people, you think you've got me on this one? Think you can outsmart Tony Lewis a second time? Well, try this on for size. I wish…for that last wish never to have happened."

Creeping to the edge of the clearing, Tony peered through the trees and his grin disappeared in an instant. If anything, the jiggling and swaying had become worse.

"Didn't you hear me?" he demanded the air belligerently. "Undo that last wish!"

Still nothing happened and Tony could see Wendell now, on his knees before his beloved grandmother's castle while that fop, Sir Rupert, tried to comfort him.

"What am I gonna do?"

Bemoaning his bad luck, Tony went and sat back down on the fallen tree, head back in hands. If he couldn't reverse the wish, then there was no way to get the castle back and the kingdom's people would crucify him.

But then a kernel of hope stirred and he raised his head, excited by the thought. Maybe no one would have to know it was him. Maybe they'd blame an evil goblin or troll or queen. After all, there might be any number of people who held a grudge against the new king and to gain their revenge they'd curse him with a…bouncy castle.

"Oh, who am I kidding?" Tony bemoaned, softly. They'd figure it out eventually that he, Sir Anthony, had destroyed Wendell's home.

A sharp bark brought him back to his senses and he saw Prince come tearing through the long grasses. For a moment, Tony panicked. Had someone already worked it out and sent the mutt to track him down? If so, he only had a few minutes to get to the mirror and escape to New York where they couldn't find him.

Tony was halfway to his feet when he realised the first and only problem with his plan. The mirror was inside the castle. Wendell's _bouncy _castle.

Sinking back down onto the log, Tony miserably regarded the dog that had come to sit obediently before him, long tail scraping back and forth through the forest floor, big brown eyes sympathetic.

"I only wish Wendell would be as understanding as you," Tony grumbled, chin on fist.

A few moments later, there were renewed screams and cries of alarm coming from the direction of the fair and Tony frowned.

"Oh what now?" he demanded, wearily.

Prince, ever impulsive, took off again, racing towards the castle. At least someone was having fun, Tony mused as he once more climbed to his feet to look out.

Across the distance he could see Sir Rupert swooning in the arms of a lady, a handkerchief pressed to his face, while a group of courtiers milled around Wendell's form. As they parted, Tony got a good look at the King and felt his eyes grow wide in shock. King Wendell White was crawling around on all fours, tongue lolling as he sniffed at the boots of his servants.

"He's gone mad with grief!" someone cried.

But Tony knew better. Knew what he'd just wished for had come true. Not only had he destroyed the castle, but now he'd given Wendell the mentality of a dog. The day could not get any worse and he knew he needed help. Unfortunately he also knew it would be of the stern and disapproving kind.

"I wish," he began, "that Virginia Lewis, my only daughter, was here now, with me."

Tony cringed slightly as he waited for his wish to be granted. Then cringed again when it was.

Naked as the day she was born and soaking wet, Virginia screamed loudly and dived behind the nearest tree. "Dad! What the hell is going on?"

"Virginia, are you ok?" he asked, quickly turning his back on her. Seeing his grown-up daughter in her birthday suit was something no father should have to witness.

"Oh wait, let me think," came her sarcastic response. "I was taking a shower back at grandma's and then I wind up here with you without any clothes. _Of course I'm not ok!"_

Tony took a step back, wondering if he should have rethought asking Virginia for help. Wolf might have been a better option.

"Ok, hang on honey, I'll get you something to wear."

"Hurry up, Dad. I'm wet and I'm cold."

Looking about, all Tony could come up with was the clothes he was wearing. Still, they were better than nothing and if Wolf was to be believed, Virginia needed to keep warm for two now.

He had started to strip, when a sly idea crossed his mind. He had used only three of his six wishes, that meant he had three left. If he wished for the right thing, neither he nor Virginia had to be cold. And if he phrased it just so, surely nothing bad could come of it.

"I wish," he began, quietly, carefully. "That Virginia, my one and only daughter, has a nice, thick, coat with which to keep her warm."

He waited hopefully then turned to the tree where Virginia was hiding behind. "Oh honey," he called, confidently. "Notice anything different back there?"

"Well now that you mention it, yes Dad, I do." Stepping around the tree, Virginia faced him with hands on white, furry hips, her expression one of grim fury through the layers of fluff that lined her cheeks. "I'm not naked anymore. _I'm a sheep_!"

*****

"…and that's how it all happened," Tony related sorrowfully as Virginia's furred frame, though petite, still somehow managed to tower over him. "So you see, none of it was really my fault. I mean, how was I to know that the intent of my wishes would be twisted, yet again I might add, by the people who grant these things? If anything, I'm as much a victim here as you."

"So let me get this straight," Virginia said. "First you get drunk. Then you eat a dung-bean. Then you wish that Wendell's castle was made of rubber and for him to act like a dog. After you've done all this, you wish me here so I can clean up your mess, but you don't stop there, oh no." Her voice was growing increasingly strident and Tony shrunk under her glare. "You turn me into a two legged sheep! Dad, Wolf's not gonna want to marry me, he's going to want to _eat _me!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Tony said, wondering why she was overreacting. "You're carrying his child. Oh, and by the way, thanks for telling me I'm going to be a grandfather. But wait, you left that honour to Wolf."

"Don't change the subject," she retorted sharply. Chewing on her thumbnail, a sign Tony recognised that meant his clever daughter was thinking, she began to pace. "Ok, tell me what exactly that peddler told you."

"Virginia, we've been over this already." Her glare cut off Tony's complaint and he hastily complied. "Get six, perfect, anything you want wishes. He said something like 'If your wishes don't come true, save the last one to undo.'"

"That doesn't make any sense. If your wishes don't come true, how can you undo them?"

Tony cast his mind back, but it was kinda fuzzy. He'd been drunk, for heaven's sake. "Maybe it was something more like 'If your wishes don't _run _true…"

"Save the last one to undo," she finished, excitedly. "Dad, that's it. Remember what Wolf told you the first time you ate one of those beans? No wishing to undo a wish? Well, this time you can. On your sixth wish, you wish all of your wishes hadn't come true. So how many have you made already?"

"Uh, three. No, four. Definitely four."

"So you have to make one more wish," Virginia reasoned. "Then you can reverse all this and I can go home. Furless."

"Ok, so what should I wish for?"

She raised a cool eyebrow at that. "You're asking me that _now_? After you've done so much by yourself already?"

"No need to be condescending," he muttered. "Alright, fine then. Here goes. I wish…for a beer."

Miraculously, a foaming tankard of ale appeared in Tony's right hand and he grinned delightedly. "Wow, why didn't I think of this first?" and raised it to his mouth.

Virginia heaved an impatient sigh and took it out of his hand before the first of the creamy ambrosia could touch his lips. She tossed the contents to one side and handed her father back the empty tankard.

"You're cruel, you know that?" he commented.

"Make the wish, Dad," she shot back, in a threatening tone.

"Fine. I wish," he announced, loudly, "that none of my wishes had come true. I wish to undo them. Reverse them all. None of it ever happened, kaput, gone, kabluie." He waved his hands in the air and turned to his daughter. "There, happy now Vir…?"

He trailed off as he realised he was alone.

"It worked," he said, disbelieving. "I can't believe it worked."

Then it sunk in. He was free, off the hook, no mob lynching, no angry Virginia. Resisting the impulse to dance for joy, Tony headed out of the clearing. Snow White's castle was back to its prim, pristine condition. Wendell was strolling amongst his people on two legs instead of four, chatting politely.

And, more importantly, everyone seemed oblivious to what had occurred over the past hour or so. It was like it had never happened. Whistling to himself, Tony re-entered the crowd, more sober than before, but no less happy. No one would ever know what he had done.

*****

Wolf knocked on the bathroom door, then entered to see the creamy love of his life standing in nothing but a pale towel, staring hard at herself in the mirror.

"I think your grandmother might be warming to me at last," he confessed. "She hasn't threatened to call the police in over an hour." When he received no reply, he frowned and stepped closer. "What is it oh mother of our little cub child?"

Virginia turned around, blue eyes were flashing fire. "You won't believe what Dad has done. And when I see him next, I'm gonna kill him."

THE END


End file.
